


Undisclosed

by Sayosi



Category: Mai-HiME
Genre: Angst, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, F/F, Sorry Not Sorry, Weird POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-11 11:44:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 15,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3326177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sayosi/pseuds/Sayosi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hypocrisy is a strange thing, isn't it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shiver

A lone lump protruded form the mattress, huddled close to the edge and covered only by a thin sheet, the comforter thrown askew at the foot of the bed. The only other one that _could_ be there was gone. Where? Somewhere supposedly far; much too far. 

_Click._

Or perhaps not. 

“I’m home.” 

Came the voice coated with that distinct accent—so infuriatingly charming. It deserved no response. 

Ruffling and rustling filled her ears, a minute, maybe two, ticking by. She remained ever still, even when slightly elevated from the addition of weight. Soon—far too soon—a limb snaked over her waist, part sliding under cloth to entice a sharp intake of breath, followed by a shuddering exhale. 

“Your fingers are cold.” 

The mumbling was the only protest, if even that. 

Fingers danced along the contours of her abdomen, an icy trail left in their wake as her muscles reacted with quivers and trembles. Shivers raced up and down her spine, the hot breath trickling over her neck so vast of a contradiction. 

An urge to arch into the touch prodded at her, yet she restrained it, desperately wanting to snuff it out. She couldn’t give in, she _couldn’t._ Such things were hopeless, all that she learned really only lies; she believed in nothing. 

But, then why did she feel so utterly unsatisfied? 

The fingers never ventured too high or too low, still chilled fingertips now gliding in tight circles around her navel. She wasn’t sure if she should take kindly to this act of cowardice. 

“Stop torturing me.” 

The words had slipped off her tongue, her mouth apparently deciding for her as fear pooled in the pit of her stomach. 

Lips brushed against the patch of skin near her ear. 

“Natsuki is ever the hypocrite.” 

The cutting statement was delivered with a teasing air, but it did nothing to dull the impact, for she knew. She knew the mask never reflected the truth. 

She felt compelled to do something, but very rarely did she ever play the role of the initiator. She never knew when things should happen, how they should happen. She had yet to learn to trust her heart. Again, hopeless; everything was. 

But, to her, that word—hope—and its derivatives had lost all meaning. 

She turned around, taking an obscure sense of satisfaction in the hint of shock in those burgundy irises. For only a second, she stared, soon pressing a kiss to parted lips as hands slipped too high, too low. Something so utterly carnal—adrenaline, almost—surged through her veins. 

_Fuck you, love._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this was supposed to be a one-shot, but the response I received from Naolin prompted me to continue. The next part will be out at some point. Even though it is technically done, there is something iffy about it to me. Gah.
> 
> Thanks to Naolin for beta-ing! –insert smilie here–
> 
> Explanation on POV of story: Every “she” and “her” will refer to Natsuki...or something of Natsuki’s (ex. the “hers” in chapter 11 will refer to Shizuru). If you’re horribly confused, please don’t be afraid to tell me. To enjoy, one has to understand. –cough– Why does that sound so cheesy?


	2. Instant

Her eyelids lifted sluggishly, deprivation from sleep sucking at her will to even move. But, she had to. She had to get up—get away. 

Ignoring her body’s unsubtle protests, she slid out of bed—out of an embrace—and threw on a few of the scattered clothes, apathetic as to if they were even hers. She stalked through the uncharacteristically open door, never once daring to glance back at the slumbering form. 

The kitchen floor was cold under her bare feet, yet she paid it no thought after the initial shock, for she was truly incapable of multitasking. 

The cabinet door was opened and closed within a second, her hand now armed with a small pot. She flicked the faucet on and eyeballed the correct amount of water. Soon the pot found itself mercilessly hurled onto a front burner, all water miraculously staying where it should. 

She cranked the dial to its highest setting and was left to wait. Her eyes ventured around the apartment, scanning for something to steal away impending boredom. They landed on a small pile of suitcases near the door. 

She hated airports. 

All they ever did was take, take, and take, leaving her to stand solitary as she gazed at a retreating back. 

As soon as she had resigned herself to this ill-fated emotion—this thing called love—she found herself far lonelier than she was before. She swore that she rarely saw her love’s, her darling’s, her beloved’s face. 

How dare that woman have that charming accent, those charming words, and that charming smile. How dare that woman bend to the company’s will. How _dare_ that woman leave her—repeatedly. 

She threw a hand to her hair, repressing the urge to punch a hole into something. A gurgling-like sound caught her ears. 

“Oh shi-!” 

Her hand immediately shot out to turn down the dial, calming down the rolling boil. She cursed a few more times in her head, as she now had to wait even longer for the water to cool down enough to become usable. All she did was stare, not letting her thoughts wander far from blankness. 

Impatience struck her—more so than usual anyway—and she poured the steaming liquid into a waiting thermos. She tossed the empty pot into the sink with a promise to clean it later. 

Her hand found the desired container with ease, the other twisting off the lid before she started to pour the brownish powder into the thermos. Satisfied, she screwed the lid back on and slid it back to its place on the counter. She fished a spoon out of a drawer and stirred the mixture fervently for a whole 10 seconds before flinging said utensil next to the pot. 

The pleasing aroma wafted into her nostrils, a smile forming. Coffee, her little rebuttal to the beloved tea. 

The now lidded thermos in hand, she hurried toward the door, scooping up her bag, helmet, and keys on the way. In no way was she running late for her classes; in fact, she would be rather early. But, she felt something pulling at her, something pulling her away. 

She closed the door quietly behind her, locking it. As she strode down the hallway, she lifted the thermos to her lips for a sip. 

Scorchingly bitter; perfect. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The making of the coffee technically wasn’t supposed to take up quite that much of the chapter, but these sort of things just happen. Gah. Still worked, though.
> 
> Thanks to Naolin for beta-ing! (Fear my originality.)


	3. Sparing

Sharp and precise, she pumped in and out of the turns. How distant they felt—those times of adrenaline rushes and constant grins. How could she ever relish in annoyances? 

_“Natsuki, you do know that this is not Fujino-san’s fault, right?”_

They didn’t know. 

If gloves weren’t covering her hands, the glaring white of her knuckles surely would have caused distraction. 

_“Well, it’s not like she’s gone for months at a time.”_

They didn’t know what it was like to be abandoned. 

The wind had never hurt so much. Freedom—what was that? 

_“Why don’t you just call the woman, you lovesick dog?”_

The light she was coming up on suddenly switched red, her tires squealing from sudden strain. The familiar hum of vibration between her legs shouldn’t have felt that good. 

Rarely did she talk on the phone; it only made things worse. They— _she_ craved too much. Only hearing melodic words flitter in her ear, her eyes, hands suffered from absence of tactility. 

A blaring horn jerked her, the glaring green providing reason, and she was off. 

* * *

She found the sight captivating: a head thrown back with chestnut strands splayed out and the top few buttons undone. But, those first words to leave luscious lips turned something off. 

“Spare me.” 

The ruby eyes that locked on her with all solemnity and intention scared her, but that smile was so disarming. 

And then those eyes closed. 

“Spare me from the grease tonight, please? I feel like we’ve had takeout for the past week.” 

_You haven’t even been here for a week yet._

She bit down the retort, not wanting to see a sad look crawl across familiar features. The usual scowl repressed, she held a neutral expression; she had learned from the best after all. Her lips parted, words building in the back of her throat. 

“Ah, but I am too tired to cook much of anything.” 

Her words died prematurely—nipped at the bud. How cruel. 

“And I don’t think I’m feeling well enough for Natsuki to experiment again.” 

A sigh. It shouldn’t have been that heavy. Half-lidded eyes possessed only sheer exhaustion, an apologetic smile adorned. 

“I suppose I’ll have to relent. Could Natsuki go dig out those menus?” 

She just stood there, miffed by the fact that the woman had just denied mercy. And why _that_ smile? 

“No.” 

It was quick and curt, a mirror to her pace as she moved to the couch and sat down close. She didn’t turn, a head finding solace on her shoulder. The smile was impossible to ward off. 

“I’m sure I can manage some ramen. I used to live off it, as you know.” 

The chuckle was only half-forced. 

“Thank you.” 

Something smooth brushed against her hand; the light contact shot a jump to her heart. How weak she was. Soon fingers slithered through crevasses, intertwining themselves. 

And she gripped back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason I was going to have Natsuki offer to make sandwiches, and then it hit me that it was a stupid choice. See, there’s a reason for this chapter taking so long. I had to give myself enough time to change my mind to instant ramen. Ha. Anyways, thank you for the reviews. They make me grin like the madwoman/girl that I am.
> 
> Naolin ish the beta, and she deserves much yays. *claps*


	4. Tactility

She lay atop an uncomfortable fold in the sheets, yet she didn’t bother to mend it; her body would get used to it eventually. Her hand trailed across to the other side, fingers running and catching in pockets of fabric. It was warm, but not warm enough. 

Her thoughts traveled back as her lids closed, remembering the rain-like sound of the shower. The skin had been so smooth, silky; the robe had felt coarse in comparison. Also hot, so searingly hot that her hands had almost flinched back upon contact. Yet she had pushed, had prevailed, and had claimed. 

Memories broke as fingers slipped into her dark mess of hair, a palm taking rest on her cheek. Slowly, a warmly smiling face—so gentle—filled her vision and she just stared. The head cocked to the side, hair dancing across delicate features before it chose to fall to the pillow. Her cheeks grew hot. 

The hand weighed on her cheek, eyes locked onto the mirth of burgundy. Her head turned, the hand didn’t move, and lips met with slightly sweaty skin. The appendage went limp, fingers sliding down to nearly graze past her lips before she grasped it. Positioning it to favor, she began a simple, intent examination with her own hand in wonderment if such a thing was childish. 

Why did such things have to feel so fascinating—so comfortable? 

Her eyes strayed, catching upon a patch of skin visible because of the scrunched shirt. Captivated, she pushed herself down far enough until she was eyelevel with the bottommost button. Flicking aside a flap of the striped cloth, the pads of her fingers skimmed across the newly exposed territory. Jolts shot up her limb as they set off the manifestation of tingling sensations in sensitive parts of her anatomy, the mewl that leaked past taunting lips only providing an accelerant. 

She fed on these feelings, button after button undone with an efficiency that she had thought lost. Her head remained still, eyes soaking in the sight of milky white, hands climbing and revealing. No part of her was cold at that moment, rather much the opposite, but toned muscle still quivered upon her touch. 

She was no coward. 

One of her fingers slid under the bra just a fingernail’s length in, the slight intake of breath not enough. She planted a kiss just above the navel, so light it could easily be considered a brush of the lips. But it was enough, the oh so audible gasp causing her grin to be pressed into smooth flesh. 

Her hands wandered far from their previous deed as they curled around to the back, one gliding up the spine. A shiver, and her smile didn’t fade. 

Really, it should be familiar, but it wasn’t. She shouldn’t have to think, worry about what would harm, what would please. She should be able to immerse herself, the right places always found and exploited; it should be _natural_. 

No matter her mental scolding, her hands continued to play and tweak—up, up, down, down. 

“Ah!” 

_Oh—that was a sweet spot, wasn’t it?_

“Natsuki...” 

Her name came out in an extended exhale, so light that she thought it to float away. 

Fingers wormed into her tousled mane, nails digging; urgency flowed into her. Breathe in—breathe out. Her once steady breaths became shaky, the pressure building up in her abdomen beginning to seep over her lungs. 

Her surrendering began; the body knew more than the mind. Legs curled up and tangled themselves as she dragged her lips up the abdomen to rest just under breasts, her nose pushing into the constraining material. Frozen in a want to both move and stay, moisture started to cumulate on skin from her hot puffs. 

There was a need that had to be fulfilled. 

But whose need was it? 

She squeezed her eyes shut, her fingernails sinking, frustration mounting. 

She didn’t want to think anymore. 

A growl suppressed, she pulled back and rose, head still within the hands’ fiery grip. She stared down— _too beautiful_ —and found herself utterly lost. Lost, lost... 

After a brief mental scoff, she descended as lips took, found. 

And once more her mind vanished. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah, this is like borderline PWP but not because it’s not really smut and I tried...with...things (translate: purpose). I want to blame the crack I wrote, but I had this chapter planned before I started writing that. At least I think I did. Curse this memory of mine! Ah, but I can blame the crack for this lateness. Hee. Now that I actually know where this is going (to an extent) and this is the only thing I’m writing, expect quicker updates. ...Hopefully. GAH.
> 
> Naolin seems to have dropped off the face of the planet, so this is not beta’d. Please deal with any typos I skimmed over until Naolin magically appears. EDIT: The Naolin hath now come! Yays.


	5. Tone

It was foreign at best but lacked in the usual awkward aura that she had grown used to humming about. Not waking up alone, what an odd sensation to accommodate to. 

The body heat that warmed her unclothed form began to increase to scalding-like temperatures as her mind withdrew from the haze. Comfort she was lulled into dulled as her reservations became acute and fact arose; it was inevitable. Loneliness would creep its way back into her, leaving her to crave impossible desires. Anger was the product, eating away at her patience, self. 

There was a return of companionship, yes, but such antagonism had to focus in on something. Funny how the focal point was the only thing that could calm the beast, but not all aggression can be eradicated when not given enough time. 

It was a cycle, but felt closer to a whirlpool, as she was pulled down deeper, deeper upon each jerking rotation. 

To reach out and grab onto something was only natural, right? 

Her limp arms tensed around the other being, low mumblings emitted. She didn’t care that her skin was burning. 

Shortly after the return, with her anger fresh, she could elude capture with strong resistance. But the once defined line between freedom and detainment was blurring; she relinquished so quickly now. One look, touch, kiss, and she willingly tightened her own shackles. 

“Mm...Natsuki’s as stiff as a board.” 

Though hoarse, the voice still had its effect, bringing her back into the here and now. A few shifts and her body molded with the other. Breath of its own type of heat trickled across her neck, lips to follow as hands trailed along her curves. All of her restraints faded, that haze floating back over her mind; she could escape for now. Her arm slid up for fingers to shove themselves into tousled tawny strands as the other, if at all possible, tightened its hold. 

She was clinging. 

_Coward._

* * *

The tip of her pencil tapped her paper in an irritated manner, leaving a condensed mass of dark gray. She would have to erase it later, but such an annoyance was miniscule compared to her using much more destructive outlets, such as tearing said paper to shreds or hurling the text book next to it out the window. It was their fault anyway. 

By now the other was surely weaving through aisles of produce, mulling over the each delectable’s perfection before placing it in the shopping basket. She _should_ have been there, standing close and rolling her eyes at the habitual antics, but she wasn’t, now was she? 

A groan eased past her lips as she threw her pencil on the table and fell back against the couch. 

Accompaniment had been denied on account of the accursed homework no matter her splutters and pouts. With one stern statement, her defiance had crumbled, and she had no choice but to scribble half-hearted answers as the door clicked, locked. Of course, as her luck would have it, one particular problem snagged her in its cruel clutches barely five minutes after she had been left to her own devices, which clearly weren’t enough. 

Oh no, she wasn’t calling for such a trivial matter. Besides she could use it to complain later and give basis to her argument that she should have gone too. Far too busy stupidly grinning over her plan, she jumped upon harsh ring of the landline phone. 

She had never seen any reason for the thing—cellphones worked just fine—but she had been badgered into one. A certain someone didn’t feel like relying on easily losable objects. 

With a grunt, she picked up the phone on the third ring. 

“Oi.” 

Ten seconds of silence and a crease grew on her forehead. _The hell?_

“Oi, is anybo–” 

“MayIspeakwithShizuru?” 

She swore the urge to slam down the phone was palpable. 

“Come again?” 

So sweet and polite. Damn that woman. 

“May I, uh...speak...with...Shizu...ru?” 

She quirked an eyebrow. _What the hell does this person I definitely do not know want with Shizuru? Especially when such a person is on a first-name basis._

“No.” 

Her tongue had never felt so familiar. 

“Wh-why? D-do I have the wrong–” 

“No. She’s out.” 

Silence. 

“...O-oh. Um, to whom am I speaking?” 

“Kuga Natsuki.” 

The next thing she heard was a distinguishable click and the dull, taunting dial tone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moo. That is all. Oh, and if you are confused, please tell me. I fear for my vagueness sometimes.
> 
> Will be beta’d once Naolin does her magic poof again, which are sadly few and far between.


	6. Words

The question crouched in wait at the tip of her tongue, she felt it would always be there to weigh down her words. She had yet to gather and retain the courage to let it pounce, her mouth always clamping shut in cowardice. The query may have been simple, but she feared complexity in the answer. 

She knew how words could be weaved and manipulated to take the shape of wished reality. She knew that a novice did not challenge a master. She knew of many things and yearned for naivety. 

The now shrill ring of the phone pierced her. She didn’t bother to lift her head from the pillow; she was supposed to be napping after all. It stopped, the still pleasant lilting of that voice flowing down the hallway and right through the open door. 

Words not discernable, she could only catch the airy, easy tone. Something felt off. With a light grunt, she pushed herself up, away from the warmth she had generated on the sheets. Her toes prodded the floor with uncertainty, not sure if her legs were quite up for the challenge of functioning correctly. A light giggle floated to her now reddening ears, providing incentive. Three wobbly steps later, she stopped just inside the doorway to lean against it, arms crossed over her chest. Her eyebrows knitted in concentration, a frown pulling at her lips. 

Funny, the world shouldn’t have been this green. 

Ears tuned into the conversation. Words were formal, not spoken until its suitability mulled over to the utmost point. She wasn’t sure who was facing a front. 

“Ah, yes...yes... No, tha–I am sorry, please go on.” 

Her eyebrows were pushed closer together as her lips were yanked ever farther downward. What happened? Now, these words—the stutters—were not right. The sure, steady strides had tripped... 

“But could... This is not... I need–” 

...And they could not stand back up. 

She slipped off the doorframe, slowing padding down the short hallway. At the end she rested her hand on the angle of the wall. Words and tone echoed in her head, not sure what she should expect right around the corner. The smile, so slight but still existent, caused her heart to drop. 

“Oh no, no. I fear last time was a bit much for me.” 

Another giggle, and she wished she could dig her nails into the wall. She hated insecurities. 

“Yes, I suppose I will see you soon then. ...Hm, quite. Goodbye.” 

There was a brief pause before the phone hung up, those eyes shifting towards her, that smile faltering slightly but just that. 

“Natsuki...” 

Parts of the mask had become see-through; at least to her they had. 

“How long?” 

“Three, four days at most. Perhaps two if things go smoothly.” 

Four it was, then. 

“When?” 

“I won’t leave until late tomorrow, but there are a few things that need to be taken care of tonight.” 

The smile grew apologetic, and her frown couldn’t grow deeper. Furniture was weaved around as her legs itched to run. But her feet were cemented to the floor, the sweat on her palm acting as an adhesive to the long since dried paint. 

“You can’t leave.” 

Her tongue and her heart seemed to be the only things capable of moving, no matter how much against her will. 

“Natsuki should know that even though I desperately wish to stay...” 

A finger glided up her neck, along her jaw line to raise her head. She shivered. 

“...I just can’t.” 

Upon the contact of lips, her previously thought stuck hand shot off and grabbed hold a fistful of cloth, pulling. Balance remained stable, resistant; the kiss remained chaste. This was a tease. She pulled back, biting her lip for suppression. 

She wanted to yell, ask who. _Who? **Who?**_

“I won’t be gone for more than an hour.” 

It felt like a promise. Her hand un-fisted with care, it was brought to lips as burgundy eyes gazed with hope. 

She only nodded, her teeth applying more pressure, lips tingling for more than one reason. Words built and balled in her throat as her eyes followed the retreating back that neared the door far too fast. Her hand was freezing. 

So soon she heard the doorknob click, click—shut. 

She stared at the door aloofly, tongue tensing. 

“So, who was that on the phone, my _precious_ Shizuru?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At first I thought I was going to release who the mystery person is in this chapter, but then I read scribbles of a future scene I had in a notebook of mine and realized I wasn’t supposed to. Yeah, glad I read that, otherwise that particular scene would have to be trashed. It’ll probably be in the next chapter or the one after that, depending how things play out once I start to write. Ohs well.
> 
> The Naolin will beta once she reviews. Much thankies.


	7. Idiotic

Solitary in the now far too spacious apartment, she took refuge on the bed. On her back with a finger twirling a dark lock, she stared up at the ceiling yet not truly seeing the structure. Her thoughts raced—jumping, swerving, tripping. 

_“For Natsuki, I will do anything.”_

Immediately, she clamped her eyes shut as if that would silence the voice. But the face materialized, broken with that haunting, empty gaze. She hated it, loathed the way her heart would clench in upon itself. 

A cry tangled in her throat as she fell to her side, curling up into the fetal position. From her hair, the hand slipped away and shielded her face. The pads of her fingers pressed into her forehead, one into her cheek. 

_Go away. Go away._

She chanted it over and over again, but that face only smiled—empty. 

“Stop it, Shizuru. You’re scaring me.” 

Hoarse, the words wisped out of her lips. Yet, as if ignoring her torment, she found herself going back to it again and again. That line: _“anything.”_

“...You hypocrite.” 

She pulled her hand away from her face, the sensation of her fingers still there. Nothing made sense. No matter how obvious the signs may have been, she couldn’t bring herself to believe. It was uncharacteristic. After that...display of twisted affection, the severity of feelings was something she never second-guessed. 

Groaning, she shifted her body forward more, her hand groping along the nightstand. Her thoughts were dangerous grounds, and she needed an escape. She found what she wanted, its rectangular shape hard and sleek. Pulling it towards herself, she let it dangle as her eyes followed its pendulum motion. 

Her other hand snatched it out of the air, a finger pressing it on. It whirred softly as her thumb moved along the wheel with the occasional venture to make her selection. She wandered aimlessly through several lists; nothing stuck out. Then, just about to turn the damn thing off, she froze. 

_Pouty...Puppy?_

She remembered the mischievous glint that floated in burgundy when the playlist was found. Apparently it had been assembled to cheer her up when she got in those ‘cute sulky’ moods. She grumbled at the memory, tossing the earbuds into her ears, a fast-paced, _cheery_ song beginning to pump out. 

This was pathetic. 

She’s regressed. She’s regressed so far that she no longer could differentiate between her current self and that little toddler that clung desperately to her mother. 

_Pathetic._

Her suspicions had to be wrong; she just fabricated things. There was no other explanation. She was just looking for reason. She just wanted to tear down that woman. She just wanted to stare down, proclaim an ‘I told you so’ that she never told. She just wanted control. 

Hadn’t she learned to open her arms and allow herself to fall into the embrace? How could she have not? 

_...You idiot._

She tore the earbuds out, the song only increasing her irritation. How the hell was that supposed to work? 

Her back arched, hand grabbing the farthermost pillow; her face buried into it. Of course, the scent still lingered, and she became greedy. 

No, she wasn’t crying; there was just something in her eye. 

Her lips started to move, to declare something she had never dared to admit. 

“...I miss you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, this is most likely not what you people wanted, but who would immediately fall head first into the idea that your lover was taking part in infidelities? And, since Natsuki was listening to music, I just wanted to say the band Evans Blue has been a rather nice mood setter for me. I’ve fallen in love with the song Cold (But I’m Still Here). Oh ho ho, bye bye happy happy joy joy feelings.
> 
> Naolin will work her beta magic in due time, and it shall be worked magnificently. (I’m running out of things to say down here... And oh, sorry, Darling. This wasn’t nearly as light as I though it would be. Blame Natsuki, not me.)


	8. Hope

Lazily sprawled out along the couch, half-awake at best, she didn’t react immediately to the ringing phone. With a groan, her hand slapped down on the noise-making object. Sluggishly, she pulled it from its cradle to rest by her ear. 

“Hellllooo.” 

The amount of slurring made her sound drunk. 

“A-ah... Hello, Kuga-san.” 

Suddenly, she was awake. 

“YOU!” 

Her voice boomed, surely causing the caller to flinch back. This voice—this was the girl who had hung up. 

“Please, Kuga-san, before you rip my head off, I-I’ve called to apologize!” 

Her blood ran so cold it seared. These feelings that welled up within her—did they have any right to be so profound? 

“I-it was rude of me t-to just hang up like that, but all the horrible s-stories I’ve heard of you... I was already so nervous, sh-shaking, just from calling that I d-didn’t have the courage to talk to you. I’ve a-admired Shi–ah, Fujino-sama for so long, and I know h-how much you don’t like us...” 

She inhaled sharply. 

“Wait.” 

“Y-yes?” 

“You’re a fangirl?” 

“...Yes.” 

Realization fell upon her, lips slowly parting wider and wider. This... How could...? 

“You idiot!” 

A shriek. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” 

“Y-you made me...! You made me...!” 

Apologies continued to spew, words soon tangling themselves into an ineffective mess. If something is uttered too much, it loses its effect— _meaning_ —does it not? 

“Shut up.” 

She heard the venom in her own voice and did nothing to stop its spread. 

“Never call back.” 

A threat, readily perched on the tip of her tongue, was left unvoiced as she hung up. She swallowed it down even though her mouth was dry. Her heart grew heavy as she seethed, beginning to shake. She scolded herself mentally over and over again. _How? How? To even think of such a thing..._

_Wait._

Eyes widening, she eased herself up to sit as panic clenched her heart and lungs. That other call. Those giggles. That smile. 

_No!_

It was a call from work. It was just a front to a superior. It was... It was... 

It wasn’t real. 

Her hand shot out for the phone, fingers flying across the number pad. She pressed it to her ear, panic tightening its hold. One ring, two rings, thre– 

“Fujino Shizuru speaking.” 

“Shizuru...” 

The stability of her voice shocked her; she was shaking even worse than before. 

“Natsuki?” 

She heard a gasp in the background. Oh, how she wanted to scream right now. 

“It’s unusual to get a call from you. Is something wrong?” 

“Nothing’s wrong. I...I just wanted to talk to you.” 

_Liar, liar._

Mumblings were faint as she heard a light, agitated groan. 

“Shizuru, is somebody with you?” 

“Ah, yes. I’m in my hotel room right now; the colleague that I room with is here—Ogata Keiko-san.” 

Her breath should have hitched, but she felt an odd sense of relief and affliction. 

“Why didn’t I know this?” 

Teeth seized her tongue; she had never asked. 

“You never asked, my dear Natsuki.” 

She wasn’t sure how to feel about the teasing air, yet she couldn’t deny the longing budding in her abdomen. 

“If you’ll excuse me.” 

The voice was faint and tight, followed by a rustling sound and the creaking of a door. A sigh. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Hm?” 

“You sound...stressed.” 

“Ah, Ogata-san can be positively impossible sometimes, and...Natsuki...I miss you.” 

She clutched the phone tighter. Although slight, the voice was strained. This was why she didn’t call; it was discomforting to hear the mirror of her own loneliness. 

“I... When will you come home?” 

“Late tomorrow night and well past your bedtime, so I better come home to a _sleeping_ angel.” 

The mock chiding brought a small smile to her face. If she could just fall into this, perhaps... 

A cry that sounded distinctly like “Fujino-san” caused her face to fall, wanting to groan along with the other. 

“Ogata-san, I am on the phone.” 

More mumbles and grumbles that were undecipherable. Her agitation grew frighteningly fast, fingernails sinking to her thigh. She despised somebody she had never met. 

“Sleep is not something that I need right now. I’ve–” 

The background noise grew hard, stern and remained a deathly calm; she felt herself shrinking away. She wasn’t the only one. 

“...If that’s how it is, then, Natsuki, I’m sorry.” 

She swore she could see that apologetic smile, and something caught in the back of her throat. 

“Shizuru.” 

It sounded like a warning. 

“Natsuki, please....” 

_Why so broken, my love?_

“This... I’m really quite tired as of now.” 

_You’ve become so transparent._

“I’ll make this up to you once I’m home.” 

_What exactly is there to fix?_

“Goodbye, Natsuki, and I...” 

_Hm?_

“I love you.” 

Her words halted at the dial tone. 

_Goodbye._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was stubborn and didn’t want to be written in decent manner. Note to self: dialogue heavy chapters are teh evil. I do not like this chapter. At. All. Moo, and I’m having a hard time making up my mind on how I want to portray Shizuru. Gaaah. Things have a habit of turning out angstier and harsher when I let myself go. I’m blaming my music choice.
> 
> Naolin (I so did not just attempt to type Natsuki) will beta eventually. I fear I’ve scared her off from this story. Ha haa... Or she is busy, which is very likely, and, uh... Shutting up now.


	9. Need

The flickering light of the television cast heavily contrasting shadows about the room. She stared at the screen, her listless face a perfect pair with her corpse of a body. Sleep pulled at her eyelids, noise dulling down to a whisper. She battled but couldn’t even muster the strength to rub her eyes. 

How late it was, she had no idea. All she knew was that the door should open at any moment. Should. Not a thing had rung, and she hated uncertainty. 

A groan vibrated the back of her throat. Thinking was becoming hard, and she found herself welcoming the change. Thoughts only dug holes; holes that she always tipped into. 

The audible click of the doorknob shot a spark through her body. 

“Natsuki? What are you doing up?” 

Her muscles resurrected, she managed to push herself up far enough to see. 

“I...I couldn’t sleep.” 

Her drowsy drawl did nothing to help her lie. But that didn’t matter when she heard the light giggle. 

“Of course. Natsuki is ever the nocturnal one.” 

“Why didn’t you call? I could’ve given you a ride...home.” 

That smile—how intimidating and calming it was. 

“I expected Natsuki to be asleep. Ogata-san’s husband came by to pick her up and he kindly gave me a ride.” 

Mouth agape, she tried to summon words but a peck on lips silenced her. Since when had the other come so close? 

“While I do not know of Natsuki, I am exhausted. Shall we retire to bed?” 

A hand presented itself and she grasped it with no hesitation. Pulled from the couch, she followed with clumsy steps. The warmth pressing into her palm ignited something within her. Sleep no longer the adversary, she now fought an indescribable foe. It condensed in her abdomen, spilling out and forming a lump in her throat. 

She didn’t want to let go. 

The hand in hers—it was there, it was warm. It gripped back. There was no way it could... 

Fingers loosened, panic rose and before she could respond, it was gone. 

“Shizuru...” 

Her voice shook, that lump so hard to speak around. She sounded like a child. 

The figure spun, tawny strands flying to be replaced by concerned features. 

“Natsuki, what’s wrong?” 

Two steps closer, and moisture welled in her eyes. 

“Shizuru...I...I...” 

_...miss you. Still._

A pace’s distance was covered in less than a second, her arms wrapping and squeezing. Tighter, _tighter._ It wasn’t enough. 

Not a sound was made, the hug returned with such docility that she choked something down. This felt cruel, uneven. Why was she the only one? 

_Stop it._

She pulled back and retreated one, two, three steps. A lone tear leaked past her barrier, and she irately brushed it away. 

“I must be tired.” 

Her jaw clenched, hands balling to fists. 

“Natsuki...” 

A hand reached. It inched closer, closer... 

_Stop it._

She flinched out of touch, the distressed look she took in oddly satisfying. 

“Natsuki, what’s–” 

“Stop it.” 

Suddenly, her hands gripped shoulders, pushed. A gasp and a _fwooph_ as the body fell. Shock and something else she dared not determine flashed in burgundy as she positioned herself over the captive. Hands ran along arms, fingers finding and intertwining. 

_You’re not leaving._

Her head dropped down, nuzzling in the crook, nipping. Once more, harder to entice the need. 

“Natsuki...” 

Such a breathy phrase. 

_You’re not going anywhere._

Slowly, she arced her neck, teeth grazing. Her hand slipped to glide up the side, fingertips across the collarbone. It traveled lower and cupped—another gasp. 

She gazed down, not meeting with eyes but with lips. She didn’t want to know. 

A descent and her mouth meshed with the other. She delved, probing with no restraint to gain that which she craved. The response, and she grinned. 

_You’re mine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the utter lateness. StepMania and Guitar Hero are two very evil, very addicting little games. Anyway, this chapter feels a little different. I think I may have changed the style. Moo, why’d I do that? Nah, I kind of like it. My thoughts aren’t working correctly right now, so...yeah.
> 
> I have officially scared Naolin off. She said she’s going to wait it out, and I have no idea how long she means. So, no beta as of now. Sort of.


	10. Catalyst

She leaned back on her hands with a chopstick dangling from her mouth, the wood rising high and dipping back down only to rise once more. Suddenly, it stopped. The thought clicked in her mind—aggression only pushed, it did not pull. 

She let the chopstick drop, pushing herself to her feet and padding to the other end of the apartment. Her hand rested on the doorframe, head poked in to view the formally dressed figure. 

“Shizuru, don’t go to work today.” 

She shifted a little further inside. A turn, and the suit was only half-buttoned. 

“Come again?” 

“Don’t go to work. Call in sick.” 

A mischievous grin broke out across her face. Lips parted to dissuade, but stopped and curved. 

* * *

Peals of laughter erupted as pillows flung about the air. She swung—always gentle—and soft _fwoophs_ sprang forth as contact was made. A counterstrike followed, so quick that she almost fell off the bed. 

This immaturity, she didn’t mind it. In fact, she embraced it so tightly she never wished to let go. 

Once more the pillow came, this time in a wide arc—the finishing blow. Forsaking her own pillow, she managed to snatch the attacking one and pulled. A light _eep_ was emitted with the tumble forward into her. 

The head fell near her neck; she tucked it there with her chin as her arms lazily folded over the body. She hummed in content, not a care for the swift mood change. 

“Natsuki, what has gotten into you?” 

A snuggle. Not entirely sure of the words’ meaning, she grumbled something. A giggle. 

“I was beginning to grow quite fond of that peeved little expression of yours.” 

Teasing, it had to be teasing. 

Her grip tightened. 

A comfortable silence settled in the air as hands brushed along cloth in a lazy fashion. The fascination of another was captivating and time was lost. She sighed, eyes closing. 

_Rrrrring..._

Her eyes snapped open. 

“Let it go.” 

Her eyelids drooped back down at the voice, the ringing subsiding to silence. 

_Rrrrring..._

That phone jack was coming out of the wall. Yet, before she could make a move for the cord, the warmth pushed away, left. Her eyes never strayed form their target. 

“Fujino Shizuru speaking.” 

Burgundy widened before turning from view. The back crouched as if shielding, and something clenched her throat. 

“I...I understand... Yes, I can be there in half an hour.” 

She couldn’t breath. 

“Goodbye.” 

She fell into the bed, burying her face in a pillow. _See no evil, hear no evil..._

Even when burrowing deeper she could hear the rustlings and zipping she loathed. The sounds were hurried, irritable almost. Such large cracks for a mask to have... Was it even of use anymore? 

Silence, and she felt fingertips on her head. 

“Natsuki, I have to go.” 

She didn’t speak; the presence remained. Nothing—she couldn’t say anything. Footsteps, and the presence retreated. A light slam, and the presence was gone. 

She rolled off the bed, her knee crashing into the ground. 

_Fuck!_

The profanity echoed in her head, building and condensing and fighting. It wanted out. With the flurry, her fist rammed into the floor, and pain _should_ have streaked through, up, around her limb. 

She fell over, limp. Numb, she felt so numb. 

This wasn’t happening because it couldn’t. No one could stand on a higher pedestal than her in those burgundy eyes. A grow reverberated in her throat, tears leaking. 

No matter what, she would reclaim. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for chapters with mood swings! Or not yay. Your choice. Oddly enough, this was hard to write (first half). I can’t write happy with this POV. Really don’t like this chapter. Grr, I say. Grr! Also, I would like to apologize for the lateness.


	11. Return

She stood there by the entrance, the cold seeping through the glass doors as patrons slipped in and out with their frequently inane amount of luggage. A scowl fixated to her face, her eyes scanned the sparse masses of people. 

Her eyebrows rose upon the sight of her target, but soon slanted back down as she realized the company. The woman—the company—that strolled too close to hers possessed eyes of a dull nature, even from such a distance. 

She didn’t wave or call out to gain attention, only shifting from one foot to the other, observing. 

Eyes of graying blue tried to maintain the gaze of burgundy, but such was impossible, as they glanced about, never finding. 

She shifted again. 

Intrigue sparked, eyebrows rising again. The subtle inching away became apparent, as the woman reclaimed the lost space with aggressive strides. Closer now, she caught the lips’ downward, irksome quirk, and she smiled, if only slightly. 

“Shizuru!” 

She heard her voice call, burgundy immediately finding. The small quirk dissipated, and relief fell over familiar features. Unconsciously leaning toward the quickening figure, she was far too captivated to take anything from the unmasked disappointment of another. 

Without her consent, her smile widened as she fought to keep her feet from inching forward. Closer, closer... 

“Fujino-san!” 

Stop, and still too far. 

Antagonized, her pulse sped, eyes to slits. How dare that woman speak as if to a dog...! 

One, two, three steps, and the head in mid-turn froze. 

Four, five, and she acquired the gaze of burgundy. 

Six, and her fingertip grazed the chin as her lips stole, gained. 

Pulling away, she paid no mind to the gasp of indignation off to the side. With a warm smile in place, she took the bag’s burden, pleasure found in the look of happy resignation. She shifted, presenting a hand. 

No words passed to the air when that warmth slid into her hand, through the crevasses, grasping. A gentle yank spurred feet to motion, the woman pushed out of thought. Soon, the glass doors were crossed; the frigid air stung. 

And she shivered. 

* * *

She poked around her rice with her chopsticks as if attempting to find the best morsel. 

“Is Natsuki not hungry? After such complaining over finding a place to eat quickly...” 

With a grumble, she positioned the bowl closer to mouth and began shoving in the white grains. She continued this repetitive movement until the bowl had lost half of its contents, and she set it down. Brushing any remaining food from her lips, she readied herself. 

“Who was that woman?” 

She spoke with eyes downcast, fixed on her meal. A sense of disgust crawled up her throat; she lost her appetite. 

“Oh, Ogata-san?” 

A clink. 

“She escorted me to the entrance even though she had neglected to pick-up her other luggage. I refused, but she became all the more adamant when I told her Natsuki would be waiting.” 

She had to tear her eyes away. Burgundy hid behind closed lids, lips sipping at steaming tea. 

“This woman, Ogata...what kind of relationship do you have with her?” 

A tooth griped her lip. 

“Ara, is Natsuki jealous?” 

Eyelids opened to let out the faux gleam. 

_Yes._

It didn’t warrant a blush. She pressed forward. 

“Please...” 

Graceful hands drew the teacup away, the gleam fading. 

“Ogata-san is a colleague, a friend if you must. But she...” 

Her hands fisted, clenched, eyes never straying. 

“She is...a bit aggressive.” 

“If she’s coming onto you, I swear–” 

“Natsuki.” 

The terse tone clipped her heart. 

“This is a matter I will solve myself. Violence will accomplish nothing.” 

She leaned in more. 

“Violence isn’t–” 

“Natsuki.” 

Once more. 

She sagged. 

“Fine, but if I see her do anything, you’re not stopping me from decking her.” 

Shocked she formed a complete sentence, nothing more readied at the tip of her tongue. The small, bemused grin she saw felt contradictory, hypocritical. 

Just one of these days she wished to know of the thoughts that passed through the unknown. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hopefully this provided a smidgen more light on the situation. Things keep changing from my plans as I start writing. It’s evil in a good way. Moo. And I would like to blame all lateness on the addicting pile of goodness that is Kaleido Star. Oh, how my days were sucked away...


	12. Lie

She sat idly, her back against the front of the couch with her legs under the table, and stared forward but not at the television. The pencil in her limp hand was about to roll away. Where her mind was going—she didn’t favor it in the least. 

“Shizuru, have you...have you lied?” 

Her tone was purely inquisitive; her thoughts were not betrayed. 

The pencil dropped from her hand as she craned her head back to peer into burgundy. 

“Of course I have. Human nature dictates it.” 

An eyebrow arched in curiosity, the body shifting to lean more heavily on the armrest. 

“Recently, then.” 

“Well, in a meeting with–” 

Her grunt froze the words. A half-masked frown pulled at lips. 

“Does Natsuki have certain specifications that need to be met?” 

She blindly reached out for the pencil to twiddle with. This was territory she wished not to tread into, but ignorance was something she rarely found to be blissful. 

“Something more...personal. Maybe.” 

A light giggle. 

“Maybe?” 

“Just answer!” 

The pencil discarded once more, she twisted herself around, placing both hands on the edge of the couch. Her eyes focused on the features slightly scrunched in concentration. 

“I don’t believe so.” 

She crawled forward a tad more, her hands reaching halfway across the cushion. 

“Are you sure?” 

Her fingers wrapped around the nearest ankle and started to pull, though more in persuasion than in command. 

“Yes...” 

The other responded to the persuasive hand, slinking down, shirt bunching at the waist. 

“Really? Not even just a little white lie?” 

Her voice carried an edge; it was almost a sneer. 

Silence. 

Impatience mounted, and she jerked forward, pinning. Lids fluttered over burgundy. 

“Have you lied?” 

She pressed once more in a low tone, desperate for the right answer. But—this answer—she didn’t know if it existed. 

Silence. A growl rumbled in her throat. 

As her eyes bore down, she saw a smile of resignation, and she didn’t know how to read it. 

“No.” 

The answer passed to the air, confidence weaved into the single syllable. 

“No, I have not lied to Natsuki.” 

She clenched her jaw, a fire sparking to life in her chest. A slew of words readied themselves at the tip of her tongue, but before she could twitch her lips in warning, the head lifted to peck her forehead with a kiss. Her eyes widening, breath could not break past the new lump in her throat. 

The head retreated for a hand to cup her heating cheek. She blinked, ignoring how slick her eyes had become. An exhale stumbled from her parted lips as her chest tightened to smother the fire. 

That smile, though smaller now, still played on the face with those calm, seemingly all-seeing eyes. 

“H-how...” 

She stuttered in marvel of this subtle manipulation and how prone she was. A thumb tenderly pressed on her lips. 

“Liar.” 

Her whisper curled around the finger, and she made no move to change the position. 

“Does Natsuki not believe me?” 

The hand shifted upward so that fingertips could brush along the dark strands that fell over her forehead, the thumb leaving. 

She said nothing. 

Feather-like caresses roamed her face in graceful patterns, soon slipping to the nape of her neck, kneading. She was quick to bite back any guttural sounds, but the shiver coursed without heed. 

She had a feeling that if she were to lean down and taste those cherry lips that they would be much too sweet. 

“Damn you...” 

She groaned, falling as the support of her arms gave way. Chestnut tresses tickled her face as she burrowed her head. 

Questions were left without answers. The fingers massaged her into a state of apathy—ignorance. It was almost blissful. 

She couldn’t help it. She was still in love. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (POV explanation moved to first chapter.)
> 
> Anyway, do you have any idea how odd it is to write with fireworks going off? It’s very, very awkward. And then when the song eerily ends the same time the burst of booms does... Daaaah.


	13. Beg

The almost sharp edges of the counter pressed into her back. She briefly wondered if her fingers would prune from the condensation-slick can she held, but dismissed the thought with a gulp of the contents. It was some sort of juice, she decided, so sickeningly sweet that she had to choke it down. She didn’t stop drinking. 

“Natsuki?” 

Her head jerked towards the kitchen entrance, can still propped against her lips. A womanly figure soon appeared with a bemused expression. 

“Natsuki, what are you drinking?” 

She closed her eyes and took another swig, listening to the almost inaudible thumps of socked feet. 

“Juice.” 

She didn’t open her eyes; the can didn’t stray. 

“But you–” 

“I know.” 

Gentle fingertips flicked along the back of her hand; her fingers twitched. 

Without a thought, she tipped her head back and took in the rest of the sugary liquid. 

“May I have a taste?” 

Her eyes opened. 

_Too late._

The can crushed in her grip. She tossed it to the counter and, with the taste still pungent on her tongue, she closed the distance between lips and breath. 

_Or perhaps not._

But she wouldn’t leave this at a simple taste test. Oh no, she was going to grab this and run. 

She gained a sound—something guttural—as she held the cheek in her palm, fingers ensnaring themselves in tawny tresses. Hands clutched at her sides, pulling, and she smirked into the kiss. 

A pop of separation and a gasp of air. 

“Natsuki...I...we....” 

She didn’t want to hear words, coherencies. With her arms locked around the back, she pinched an earlobe in between her teeth, sinking in just enough to entice a whimper. Pain or pleasure? So hard to tell with a line so invisible. 

She retreated a little to run a heated trail of openmouthed kisses across the jaw line, twisting down to the welcoming arc of the neck, and there she stayed. Her hands effortlessly slipped under the cloth barrier of a blouse to the heating flesh she craved to float along. 

How long it had been since the last time, she didn’t know; eternity seemed like a good guess. 

One hand ventured up, pushing the cupping fabric aside, as the other lingered by the waistline, playing. Fingernails snagged in her shirt. She pressed her face further into the neck, milking the moan that reverberated in it to the fullest extent. 

_More... Please, just a little more..._

Independence was something she’d thought forsaken, for here she was, in so much need. Did it hurt? She didn’t know; she hated lines. 

Two of her fingers just barely poked under the underwear’s band and kneaded the skin. Teasing or testing, it didn’t matter what it was called. 

She needed to feel the body next to her writhe. She needed to hear a broken voice _beg_. She needed... She needed... 

She needed a confirmation. 

_Need me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somebody reprimand me, this took way too long and it’s not much, but it has a purpose. I swear, a few more chapters...
> 
> Much thanks to Naolin for beta-ing!


	14. Mercy

She felt as though she were out in a rainstorm. Cold droplets shattered on her skin, creating dozens of streams that coiled in and around her body, embracing. Not once shivering, she tried to relish in nature. 

Her eyelids slowly raised, her vision cleared, and she stared at the showerhead. 

So much for imagination. 

She turned off the freezing downpour and reached for a towel to rub away the moisture. Cool air filled every expanse of the apartment, yet she hadn’t bothered to throw on clothes or dry more efficiently. 

The very purpose of that shower was to steal away her heat— _passion_ —but she only found herself yearning for that of the other. 

A scowl tugged at her face as she stomped about. 

“Natsuki shouldn’t wander about in such attire.” 

Arms slithered around her abdomen from behind, warmth pressing into her, seeping through her like water never could. She spun around to return the gesture, the feeling of cloth on skin almost unbecoming. Her lips clamped down on the nearest section of neck and sucked. Arms tightened; a gasp died prematurely. 

Breaking contact, she slinked out of the hold to the bedroom. The door thudded shut. 

She was still thirsty. 

But this was her rationale, was it not? If she craved, so would the other. 

Without a care for her still damp hair, she tossed on some casual clothes and made her way out and down the hallway. Rounding the corner, she found a figure resting on the couch with a hand fingering a spot on the neck. The first few buttons of the blouse undone, lips were parted with distant eyes, and strands of tawny wisped across clothed shoulders and bare skin. 

Her mouth became a little dryer. 

She wanted another drink, but only a sip. 

“Shizuru.” 

Burgundy snapped over to her, wavering in slight uncertainty. 

She slid down onto the furniture and enclosed her fingers around the wrist now frozen on the neck, bringing it to her. Her grip loosened just slightly for her hand to descend down the arm as her lips took their place at the wrist. Dragging her lips up agonizingly slow, she swore she could feel a pulse— _faster, faster_. 

Once she reached the palm, her tongue slithered out—a sharp inhale—to trace the many lines with much meticulosity. The hand contracted and relaxed over and over, causing her brow to furrow just so. Her mild irritation mounted as her stomach clamped down upon itself, and she wrapped her tongue around the nearest finger, her lips to follow. 

It was salty, if anything, not a taste she was unaccustomed to. She drew the digit in, swirling it around her mouth. The stimulation was more than she had expected; her stomach clenched further and air caught in her throat. She had to break this. 

“Na–” 

She pulled away deliberately, her eyes locked onto the face stuck in between a state of pleasure and confusion. To hide her growing grin, she sent her hand across her mouth and turned to walk off. 

“–tsuki, what are you...?” 

A hand latched around her wrist, tightening. 

She only stared, the ice in her eyes unreachable by the fire that licked at the insides of her abdomen. Her wrist began to grow hot. 

In time, the hand dropped along with all heat in her wrist, the head turning away sharply. 

Unconsciously, her fingers brushed along her wrist as she ambled off. 

* * *

Her plan had backfired, simple as that. 

The only thing she had succeeded in was expanding the distance between, and she grew colder. She missed the warmth. 

She lay facing the outside of the bed, sure the other was a mirror to her. A growl bubbled in the back of her throat, but she suppressed it to keep at least one occupant in slumber. 

Her legs were restless, and a swelling pressure in her chest wouldn’t quell. She knew what she wanted, but– 

_Fuck plans._

She rolled over to inch toward the curvy bump on the mattress, stopping once close. Using one arm to elevate herself, she was able to take in the sleeping face, a small smile coming to life on her lips. Her hand wandered out and tucked a few locks of tawny behind an ear and then drifted down to lightly run the pads of her fingers across lips. 

_Always soft._

She could barely feel the pressure anymore. 

With a sigh of partial resignation, she left herself fall down and snuggled into the back. 

She was content. She was warm again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for minimal if any plot progression! To show how sorry I am for taking so damn long for anything to happy, next chapter will be out within the next few days, as it is done. Then perhaps after that I can actually gain enough strength to get the freakin’ ball to move.
> 
> Thanks to the Naolin for beta-ing!


	15. Death

Her first experience with death had been at age five. 

An aunt—a woman she forever associated with a distinct, spicy perfume—had died in a motorcycle accident. 

At her young age, she had been spared details, not that she would have been able to comprehend much. The only thing she had known was that there was a hole in her life and no matter how many tears she cried, it never filled. 

The funeral had been a blur of black clothes, solemn faces, and a picture of a pretty woman that always conjured up that familiar spicy aroma. 

She had begun to link that scent with death. 

“Shizuru, what’s in the box?” 

She leaned forward from her seat on the couch to inspect the small white box that had been left on the table. 

“Perfume. It’s an office present.” 

The voice called from the bedroom, sounding slightly muffled. She quirked an eyebrow. 

The box now in her hands, she turned it over and over, taken in by the unblemished surface. White—the color of purity—would show even the tiniest of imperfections, but this box... 

She flicked open the top and withdrew a clear bottle with almost clear liquid inside. Before she could even start to unscrew the cap, the object was swiped from her. Glancing up, she found herself staring into the mischievous gaze of burgundy. She couldn’t help the frown from pulling at her lips. 

“Ah ah, not yet, my dear Natsuki.” 

She felt herself lift a bit when the weight plopped down next to her, the warmth from the body already starting to crawl over her. The head nestled itself on her shoulder, an arm lifted the bottle up to the light, turning it, and she watched the show of the dancing refractions. 

“Pretty, isn’t it?” 

She heard the mumble; the hair tickling her was almost as soft as the voice. 

“Un.” 

Minutes passed, and she never moved, stuck in comfort and mild fascination. She could smell apple shampoo—a shampoo she never used. 

Her trance-like state was broken seconds later once she realized the bottle was no longer in her sight, but under her nose. 

Unopened. 

_That picture._

She never wanted to smell that scent again. 

“I won’t forgive you.” 

The words stumbled from her lips. Her vision blurred. The body next to her stiffened. 

Suddenly, a face was before hers, the expression undistinguishable due to the building moisture in her eyes. 

“Natsuki.” 

It was so pained, almost apologetic. 

A strong ache throbbed in her chest, jaw quivering. 

“If you die, I won’t forgive you.” 

Her voice trembled. 

_So weak._

Hands pressed into her face, trying to wipe away her tears, but they didn’t stop. She still couldn’t see clearly. 

“Natsuki, I–” 

Her fingers rested on lips—a frown—to stop the speech. 

She almost grinned. 

“That is the _only_ thing I won’t ever forgive you for.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The only thing really needed in this chapter is the last line, but it makes no sense without build up, hence the chapter. Yay. And because of that, I’ve decided to make this a double feature (paired with previous chapter).
> 
> Naolin beta. Uber yay.


	16. Wound

She propped herself up against the headboard, her hands burrowed in the sheets bunched at her waist. Her eyes lingered on the tawny tresses, watching every gentle swish; her hands itched to touch. Just below her ribcage, the need constricted in upon itself over and over. 

Smooth arms slid into the sleeves of a suit jacket and made nimble work of the few buttons that held together the bottom. A hand skimmed through the silky strands, letting them wisp across padded shoulders. 

Sheets tangled around her own hands. Everything has a breaking point, and the tension just wouldn’t stop. 

After a pat down and a quick glance in the mirror, the primly clothed figure strode past her, those shapely legs pushing against the skirt’s fabric. Never once did burgundy float over to her. 

And there was the door. 

_Snap._

Her arm lashed out, griping the nearest wrist and yanking. The body hadn’t even had time to make contact with the bed before she drew both of her arms around the abdomen. 

The silence was never broken by a yelp of surprise. 

Unnerved, fingers clenching, she hid her face in the tawny mane—soft and contradicting to the fabric scratching her chin. Her lips stumbled upon an ear. 

“You’re not leaving.” 

Her voice, stern and firm, rumbled the eardrum. Muscles tensed in her hold. 

“Natsuki, I have to go to work.” 

“I don’t like it when you go there.” 

“Na–” 

She squeezed harder. 

“You’re _not_ leaving.” 

Hands pushed against her in an attempt to escape, but she was stronger. 

She was more desperate. 

“Please–” 

“No!” 

The skin under her lips shook, muffling her cry. 

This surge of emotion, she hated it. And the more she hated it, the more it intensified, its long fingers crawling, seizing. 

The true breaking point had yet to be reached. 

Shock jolted her heart when arms returned her hold, so gentle to her harsh grip. Then once more when lips caressed her cheek. 

Such actions should be common. But they weren’t. 

And it killed her. 

She leaned in with the intent of a kiss, but only brushed a cheek as the head turned at the last hesitant second. 

A refusal. 

Her face twisted in anger, in injustice. A kind of a sick devastation closed in on her throat, her voice nothing more than a puff of air. 

“Why...?” 

_Snap._

She flung the other down to the bed, nestling hips between her thighs. The neat clothes were now mussed, and she didn’t care. 

She was _above_ this. 

“Am I not good enough for you?!” 

Her words boomed, almost drowning the soft whisper. 

“Natsuki...” 

Moisture welled in her eyes. She closed them and shook her head. 

She felt as though something was lost—a part of her, a part of _them_. In truth, she had felt this for a while now, but it was never something she’d dared think, something she’d dared acknowledge. 

Once again, she met with those loathed apologetic eyes. 

She dared now. 

Her head dropped into the chest, limp, the scent of detergent trickling into her nose. So clean, clean, _clean_... 

A hand petted her head as one would a lost puppy, fingernails lightly scraping her scalp. And she lay there, trying to find solace in the very one that hurt her. 

Pity she never favored masochism. 

“Natsuki, I really have to...” 

Her eyes widened, and the other had slithered out from under her and right out the door. She never moved, frozen. 

“Shizuru!” 

Rage surged through her voice 

“ _Shizuru_!” 

She called out again, like a thunderclap. 

A door slammed shut. 

And the runaway succeeded. 

_Sna-ap._

Anger set her blood on fire, melting the stun from her limbs. She grabbed her pillow, the nearest to her, and hurled it to one end of the room, the other meeting a similar fate at the opposite end, lone and distant. Sheets were torn from the mattress, leaving it bare, raw. 

She sat in the middle of the barren bed, arms and legs tightly knitted, lips screwed. 

She’d had enough. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ball. It’s inching. I swear. Ooh. Ooh. 
> 
> Damien Rice. Elephant. Good song.
> 
> Naolin beta. Yays. Thanks.
> 
> Simple sentences. Annoying. Stab.


	17. Salt

She sat with her forehead resting on her propped knees, hands buried in her mane as she tried to stop herself from boiling over. Shaking, her toes curled around the edge of the couch to maintain some semblance of balance. 

_Click. Creak._

She didn’t look up and just listened to the rustling and scuffling. A gentle hum floated to her ears, igniting a flame in her stomach and tightening her chest. 

“Shizuru...” 

Low and growling, her voice trembled in her throat. 

The humming stopped. 

“Why do you always leave me?” 

She shoved her hands deeper into her hair, closing in further upon herself. 

“Natsuki...” 

It was a mumble, barely comprehensible. She couldn’t read it. Then again, could she ever? 

Something brushed across her arm. She jerked away into the corner of the couch, fingers digging into the fabric. The widening burgundy was unjustified. 

“Answer me!” 

She threw her head forward, so close to bearing her teeth. 

“I leave because I have to.”  
  
The tone was level, almost calculating. Features took on the expression of a seasoned politician, ready to waffle one’s way to the “truth.” 

She leapt off the couch, her fingers turned to fists at her sides. Her eyes never swayed from the placid face. 

“But why don’t you ever come back?!” 

Confusion flickered in russet eyes. 

“What do you–?” 

“You know exactly what I mean! You...! You...” 

She crumbled to her knees, her palms sinking into the carpet. The figure slid to the ground to kneel in front of her. Her shoulder twitched upon contact, a thrill running along her arm, yet she didn’t move away. Fingers skimmed along her face, hooking under her chin to pull it up. 

It was only when she couldn’t discern the blurred visage that she knew she was crying. 

The ball in her throat made it so hard to breath. 

“I offered the world to you.” 

The words were smooth and flowing, those eyes possessing an unexpected edge. 

“So, Natsuki, how does it feel to make me a hypocrite?” 

Choking on her sudden inhale, she flew backwards out of the hold. She stared in disbelief. 

“What the hell are you–?” 

She swore the heavy gaze knocked the air out of her. 

“You never really accepted me, did you?” 

She had never– 

“Of course I have!” 

This was ludicrous. Ridiculous. Incomprehensible. 

“But you never let me know anything. You never tell me.” 

Not once did the voice rise. It didn’t need to. 

“But I...! I do... I...” 

And she tripped. 

And there were no arms to catch her this time. 

She stared helplessly, wondering where this had turned, where her backbone had been ripped from her. Dark strands flew from side to side as she shook her head. Rage began to bubble, her realization of her weakness fanning the flames. 

She could say those words, those three words that she was sure she would never understand. But her lips remained pressed together. 

Words were words. 

That’s all they were. 

Her back straightened, her shoulders went ridged. She set her mouth, ready to sic her harsh words on this woman. 

This woman that she loved. 

But she never had the chance. 

“Natsuki, you fuck me. Nothing more, nothing less.” 

“What!?” 

She blurted, her mouth loose. Fear chilled her. 

Burgundy carried a hard sheen, and she couldn’t look away, couldn’t speak. 

“Goodnight.” 

The last thing she saw was an arc of chestnut hair as thudding footsteps carried the hypocrite away. 

A door slammed shut. 

_Again._

In the end, she still sputtered, for all her aggression and resolve could not mask her twinge of self-doubt. 

She slept on the couch that night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are confused by this chapter’s title, look at the previous chapter’s title. See it now? Good. And no, this wasn’t the big argument, as Shizuru kind of stopped things. Crafty, eh?
> 
> And this was damn hard to write. –stabbity stab stab–
> 
> Thanks to Naolin for beta-ing!


	18. Crash

She couldn’t walk softly. Upon every footfall, something would shake and she would flinch ever so slightly. The air was thick, not hot, but still hard to breathe. Her muscles wouldn’t relax, her jaw constantly clenched, and her brain just wouldn’t shut up. 

She knew what transpired the previous night, but she didn’t know why. She had only blinked and she was pushed into a corner, futilely clawing at the walls. 

She didn’t know what to do. 

She wanted to punch that mouth. She wanted to knock that body against the wall. She wanted to feel the gulp against her palm as her nails dug into skin. She wanted to beat out the real truth. She wanted to roar at the injustice of it all. 

But she couldn’t. 

Because she was still in love. 

There was no doubt left in her mind that wrongs had been committed, neither party without blame. 

She wanted to run. 

Her eyes trailed over to the emerging figure, something undistinguishable stirring. 

But she couldn’t. 

Burgundy locked with her, and faltered with uneasiness before steadying. 

Her eyebrows and lips tugged down. She decided to let the other _know_. 

“Shizuru, have you ever thought you’re going the wrong direction on a one-way street?” 

No sound. No movement. 

“...And something comes, going the right way, and then...” 

She slapped her hands together forcefully, pain shooting up through her arms and palms growing numb. 

“Crash.” 

Still no sound. Still no movement. 

Then burgundy flickered, softer now. 

“Yes.” 

* * *

“I want you to meet somebody.” 

The statement was pulled out of the air. She choked on her drink, coughing and spluttering as she tried to force out the once welcomed liquid. The other continued on as if nothing had happened. 

“I want you to meet Ogata-san.” 

She grew still, her face red for more than one reason. Her eyes drew up to level with burgundy and their solemnity. 

She knew who that woman was. And she knew she didn’t like her. 

She poised her hands in the air, palm to palm with a foot between, and she sent them into each other. 

“ _Crash_.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually managed to write this one up all in one sitting. Pretty fast too. Such a drastic chance from the last chapter in terms of the writing process. I blame the storm, as it somehow inspired me. Aaaaand...the next few chapters will shoot me. Damn emotion.
> 
> Thanks to Naolin for beta-ing!


	19. Hello

Something crunched under her feet as she walked. With a swipe of her foot, she passed it off as garbage, her eyes trailing across the moderately sized western style house. Somehow, the sight unsettled her. 

A hand slid into hers, and a sick unconformability settled under her skin. 

“Do I have to do this?” 

She mumbled, the words taking shape purely of their own will. 

A squeeze. 

“ _Please_ , Natsuki...” 

Suddenly, she felt drained. She wanted to run, but that hand held her back, held her to this house. 

This level lawn. These precisely trimmed bushes. This pure white paint. 

This _goddamed_ perfect house. 

“Fujino-san, I’m so glad you could make it.” 

A voice called, its tone twisted and condescending. 

She gritted her teeth, her hand clamping until she elicited a small, almost inaudible cry from her companion. 

“Ogata-san, this is–” 

A grin played on features to ideal to be real. 

“The cretin, right?” 

She bristled. 

Her eyes swiveled to her left in search of the hard features of resistance, yet she saw no such thing. Burgundy dulled; the surrounding muscles were malleable and tired, their comfortable fit suggesting continual use. Her lips screwed in dissatisfaction, she snapped her now burning gaze back to the intruder. 

“I have a name.” 

“Oh, I know. But it is simply not of importance. _You_ are not of importance.” 

She thrust herself forward, her patience translucent, but that grip on her hand halted her. Resisting the urge to glance aside, she retained an aggressive stance and growled not unlike a rabid dog. 

“Aw, poochie’s upset.” 

She lunged again, her teeth now bared. 

She didn’t care. She really didn’t care. She just wanted to tear the fucking bitch apart. 

“Natsuki–” 

“No, Shizuru!” 

She whirled around and yanked the woman closer. Bringing her face close and level, she spoke with a breathless edge. 

“This is no longer your call to make.” 

The hold grew lax, and she wrenched her arm free. Her eyes trained on the other figure, only to find graying blue—not focused on her—stirring with something that sickened her. That grin grew perverse and those eyes _raked_. 

It was vulgar. 

And she wouldn’t have another second of it. 

Before those little blue eyes could even blink, her knuckles ground into that damned little cheek and _pushed_. 

The body fell. 

“Natsuki!” 

She jerked toward the voice, her irises smoldering. 

There were no words. 

* * *

A scowling face pressed an ice pack to a badly bruised cheek. Blue eyes glared with a fierce coldness when she entered the room. 

She couldn’t explain it—this feeling that welled up within her upon the sight of this wretched being. A frown tugged at her lips, and the fire slowly licked up the sides of her abdomen, threatening to consume her whole. Her fingers twitched at her side— _once, twice_ — 

She saw the sneer, felt the air of arrogance. 

— _thrice_. And they balled. 

With a scoff, the damaged face turned in the wrong direction, to the wrong person. 

She sprung forward. 

“Natsuki!” 

_Dammit._

Hands clutched her un-fisted one, holding her back— _protecting_. 

“Why are you defending _her_?” 

She spat, yanking herself free. 

A whimper. 

She turned, muscles tense, and never once did she glance back as she stomped out. 

_Fuck this._

Once to her bike, she threw on her helmet in disregard to her loose hair. Key in and ready to start up her bike, she paused upon hearing a muffled cry. She craned her neck toward the thumping footfalls, watching vehemently as a face of barely restrained panic grew nearer. 

“Natsuki...” 

So soft. 

She softened. 

She reached out tentatively, something in the back of her mind screaming at her to just _drive_. 

Her tinted vision obscured those beautiful burgundy eyes, their sheen almost indistinguishable. 

Without another thought, she snatched the hand nearest to her. A gasp, and the figure fell to the ground, knees hitting the pavement without kindness. The hand was limp in hers. 

Gentle sobs reached her ears, and her heart jumped into her throat. She wanted to be angry with this woman. She wanted to so badly, but she couldn’t. She only wanted to hold, but it felt like the other didn’t want to be held. 

So she didn’t move. 

“Natsuki, please, I need to... I need to...” 

Raspy and hiccupped, the voice pleaded. 

Her lips twitched. 

She didn’t need to hear anymore. 

“Get on.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor detail you people may not have retained: Ogata has blue-ish eyes.
> 
> First off, yay for the most swearing I’ve ever done in a chapter. I couldn’t stop myself. Second, I thought this chapter (first half) was going to be longer, but I keep getting places faster than I thought I would. Perhaps I’m rushing things, which is a stark contrast to what the build up is. Oi. Anyways, the next chapter...will take me forever and a day to write. Just a warning.
> 
> And now since the awesome (and very much so thanked) beta Naolin has commanded me to...
> 
> The Naolin: Don't worry folks, I'll poke her until she updates. I love this story too much to let her be as lazy as I am.


	20. Goodbye

As the door slowly eased open, she stepped into the room, her breathing heavier than she would have liked. Her throat was so compressed it was a wonder that she could still breathe. 

“Why did you want me to meet that...that _thing_?” 

She didn’t bother to turn to the other, her voice tilted with accusation. 

“I have my reasons.” 

The cool, level tone was like a punch in the gut, her throat growing ever smaller. She willed herself to look behind at the click of a closing door. Her fingers twitched in response to the prim lady standing before her. 

Where’d her mess go? 

“What the hell is going on with you?!” 

She sent her hand in a harsh sweeping motion, her words shooting off her tongue. 

Stoic eyes stared at her. An indescribable infuriation steadily seeped through her veins, her jaw quivering in restraint. She didn’t know where she’d be next, what emotion would come over her, what she’d do. This wasn’t good. Nothing was. She hated it. 

She _hated_ it. 

Whirling around, she stormed off to the kitchen in need of something cool to drink. Her insides were flaming. 

Curled over the sink, she had forsaken a cup and greedily slurped the water straight from the faucet. She wasn’t expecting two arms to wrap around her abdomen. 

Stiff, she turned the faucet off and didn’t move. 

“Let go.” 

_Tighter_ . A head pressed itself into her shoulder. 

“Let go!” 

The head shook, and she felt something warm and wet. 

Her hands painfully griped the edge of the counter, knuckles white. She couldn’t breath. Her throat was ever tightening; her lungs were being crushed. 

_BREATHE, dammit!_

She held her breath. 

And exhaled, pumping her voice with air. 

“What are you doing?” 

A lull. 

“...One could say I’m enjoying my last meal.” 

The murmur broke against her shoulder, low and weak. 

Her mess was back. 

Arms slowly withdrew, and shaking breaths caused her heart to stutter. She looked back to find the arms wrapped around their own abdomen, as if to retain as much heat as they could. 

“Natsuki, you should know that the Ogata-san you saw...was not the one I see.” 

The voice remained unsteady, but it did nothing to stop her from stumbling by its weight. 

“What you saw was an act of vulgarity, a taunt to you. She is, in nature, horribly eloquent, horribly _manipulative_.” 

Burgundy was covered, and she couldn’t read. Not that she considered herself wholly literate in the first place. 

“She loves to instill thoughts of fear and inadequacy in others, and, dare I say...” 

Lids opened, and she looked into the eyes of defeat. 

“...I am not as perceptive as I thought I was.” 

“Shizuru, what are you–!” 

“Natsuki, this is a time of confession. I am here to come clean, so I can walk away with little regret.” 

She didn’t attempt to speak again, her lips stilled by a heavy frown. 

“You are full of irregularities, Natsuki. Once I come back after I am gone for longer than a day, you push me away but then pull me back two days later. Sometimes you change your mind and do it the very night, and other times it takes a week. There is _no_ pattern, and I can’t think of anything that would alter your decisions.” 

A somber smile, and it wasn’t only her lips that were heavy. 

“No matter what you may think, Natsuki, I cannot read minds. But...” 

A hand slid up to cover the face. 

_If I can’t see you, you can’t see me._

“Natsuki, you are transparent. So very transparent.” 

Her mouth dropped open, and she stared. Something churned within her. Something searing. 

_It burns._

“Is it so bad that I didn’t want to see?” 

_It ignites._

She snapped her jaw shut, her teeth grinding. 

_Bang._

“You knew! _You knew!_ Then what the **fuck** was that line for back there?” 

Confusion flickered in burgundy before widening. 

_“Natsuki, you fuck me. Nothing more, nothing less.”_ __

The arms compressed, the hand griped the features beneath it. 

Muffled, the voice fanned the flame. 

“If I said I still thought of it as the truth...” 

A half-repressed scream ripped out of her throat as she swept her arm across the counter top. Yet to be cleaned glasses flew, plummeted, _shattered._ Crystalline shards littered the floor. 

Nothing. 

She was about to pounce— 

The hand fell, revealing a stoic face. 

“I’ll admit I slipped, Natsuki. I, as I’ve heard so many put it, _fucked_ up. Perhaps not so much in the literal sense.” 

—but stopped. 

The fire still lapped at her feet. 

“What?” 

Her tone was clipped. 

“I slipped, my love. I slipped and fell into the arms of another.” 

_It **burns**._

She pounced. 

Her hand fisted the collar, pushing, pressing the body into the wall. She pulled herself up close, her hot breath heating the face as she glared into burgundy. 

And she saw fear. 

She didn’t sway. She couldn’t. 

She almost savored it. 

“You’re nothing but a hypocrite. You say you love, but you don’t. You _can’t_.” 

She didn’t know how much she believed her own words, but she still pressed on. She had more to say. 

“You say I don’t love, but I do. _Too damn much_.” 

Burgundy glistened from either tears or defiance—she didn’t know. 

She was too goddamn _blind_. 

“Goodbye.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Yays. –death–
> 
> Much thanks to Naolin for beta-ing and poking. And how I wish that squiggly thing would actually work. –grumbles–


	21. Aftertaste

She frowned. It wasn’t particularly deep, but still prominent. People steered clear from her, shifting eyes never wishing confrontation. 

She didn’t want to remember. Yesterday didn’t happen and neither had the past two years—no, the past six. She was still the immature middleschooler who never smiled. 

Obscenities filled her tongue, but she swallowed them down, the bad taste lingering. She needed a drink. 

Her eyes flicked up to find the glowing Rorschach sign, and she quickly walked in, not bothering to think of how she ended up here. Just as she sat down at the counter, the bartender greeted her loosely. 

“Long time no see, Kuga-chan.” 

Her eye twitched. 

“Shut the hell up and give me a water.” 

Laughter shone briefly in black eyes before being snuffed out a piercing glare. 

“Kuga-ch–” 

A growl. 

“–saaan...how have you been?” 

A slightly shaking hand set down a glass in front of her. Her fingertips brushed along its smooth side not yet slick from condensation. 

She wasn’t going to answer that question. 

She didn’t want the water anymore. 

“Thanks.” 

She muttered the word, slipping out of the stool and out the door. 

* * *

_Fuck._

She sat in the middle of a bed in some hotel room in some city. She’d forgotten where she was. It didn’t matter. 

She buried her head in her hands, wanting only to rub out all the emotion as if were just dirt sullying her face. But her palms were wet. Her breaths were haggard. And she wished she hadn’t had a heart. 

_Fuck. Fuck._

She hadn’t learned anything. Love was useless, so utterly and completely _useless_. 

_FuckfuckfuckFUCK._

She tore out of her position, standing rigid on the bed, fists clenched and shaking. 

This wasn’t happening. 

_It was._

That didn’t happen. 

_It did_ . 

With a half-suppressed growl, she leapt off the bed, landing with a resounding **THUMP** that shook her to her bones. An intense energy constricted her muscles; it begged to be released. But she couldn’t move. 

_Why?_

* * *

She couldn’t remember how the relationship had started. It just sort of _happened_. 

There had been no words to paint the superfluous picture of her feelings. Yet, she had used her lips to speak, though pressed directly to skin, acting on something purely instinctual and carnal. 

She remembered hearing a breathless confession—something that had sent her heart to her throat. 

She hadn’t remembered responding. 

But she had woken up to a smile that following morning, and that seemed to be all that mattered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am deeply sorry for the late update, but I have never edited a chapter so much in my life. Nothing would come out right. Grr. Anyway, if all things go as planned, this should be done in four more chapters. Finally.
> 
> And much thanks to Naolin for beta-ing. This chapter needed it. Desperately.


	22. Help

“Mai.” 

She didn’t know why she’d called. She didn’t want to talk. But... 

But she needed someone. 

“Natsuki! Where are you? What have you been doing? We’ve all been worried sick. Shizu–” 

“ _Don’t_ say that name.” 

She ground out, her grip tightening on her cellphone. A sick feeling started to swirl up her throat, and she tried to gulp it down. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea... 

“But, Natsuki–” 

A flash of burgundy. 

“ _Don’t!_ Just...don’t....” 

She pressed her free hand into her face, hard, and she swore she could feel her frown. 

“Natsuki...” 

The voice was soft, sympathetic. Her stomach twisted, and suddenly she wanted to run away. 

“This was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have called.” 

About to drop the phone from her ear, a panicked cry grabbed her muscles. 

“ _Wait!_ Natsuki! Um, j-just hear me out!” 

Her brows furrowed, and she swallowed her urges. 

“Hear you out?” 

“You don’t need to do this.” 

“Do _what_? What am I doing?!” 

She flared up, her whole body tensing. 

“Natsuki, don’t be an idiot. You’re smarter than this.” 

It was a plea. A pathetic, sympathetic plea. 

“Wha–” 

“You think too much.” 

She froze. 

“This all isn’t what you think it is. You really need to talk to Shi—to her. In fact...she’s right here.” 

Her eyes widened. A chilling fear crept up her spine. 

Another flash. 

_Those eyes. Those_ goddamn _eyes._

“NO!” 

“But Na–” 

“No!” 

“You really ne–” 

“No! No! NO! I don’t ever want to hear that...that...that _thing’s_ voice ever again! Do you even know what she did? What she was doing? What she probably _still is doing_?!” 

Her voice rose—higher and more desperate. She felt her voice reach from the back of her throat for something stable. 

_Mai, help me_ . 

“Natsuki...” 

Her name echoed in her ear, broken and lost, spoken by the one voice she thought she never wanted to hear again. And she _felt_ it. 

Heart clenched, she hung up the phone. 

“ _Dammit_ , Mai... Unfair.” 

* * *

She hated herself. She hated that she hated herself. And she hated that, even still. 

Yet, she still loved, and she hated that the most of all. 

* * *

A hand had pulled gently at hers, but she hadn’t glanced over. 

_“Ne, Natsuki...”_

Another pull. 

_“Hm?”_

Silence, and she had glanced over to see burgundy so full and...sad. Her jaw had loosened, as if to ask something. 

_“Never mind.”_

Her jaw tightened. 

She didn’t say anything for the rest of the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I suck. What else is new? :p Lack of inspiration blah blah Xena blah blah excuses. Had this finished a while ago, but I had struck a deal with my beta that I would give the rest to her in one giant clump of doom. But I don’t see much of her anymore, so I decided to just forgo the beta-ing process for the rest of this. I hope to get a chapter out a week, but my plans tend to fall through. Dammit.
> 
> Oh, that last part was a “in the past” type thing.


	23. Poison

She stared at her vibrating phone, lips screwed in some sort of frown, brow creased. All the while, the caller ID merrily went on glowing. The thing was taunting her—she knew it was—displaying that name over and over again. 

It stopped. 

She sigh– 

_Vrrrrr_ . 

“Goddammit!” 

Growling, she swiped the phone off the bed and viciously flipped it open. 

“ _What?_ ” 

She ground out her words. 

“N-Natsuki... You answered.” 

Shock rose in the voice. 

“Of course I answered. I would’ve been driven batshit if I hadn’t. Now, what the hell do you want from me?” 

She flopped back onto the bed, lightly placing her free hand on her forehead. Somehow, she felt a headache coming on. 

“I just want to talk.” 

A laugh tickled her throat, but she swallowed it down. 

“ _Talk?_ Last time we talked, something blew up, and I don’t know if I feel like doing that again.” 

Bitterness smeared her tone. 

**_I_** _blew up_ . 

She closed her eyes and tried to smother the already steady burn in her chest. What was it? Anger? Fear? Resentment? _Guilt_? 

“Please, Natsuki. Just allow me a few minutes. Just allow me to explain. Please...” 

The desperation was infectious. 

She wanted to. She wanted to listen. She wanted to hear a good reason, something easy to swallow—something to...to forgive and forget. 

But she couldn’t. 

“How much more will you test me, Shizuru?” 

A gasp. 

She took in a deep breath and exhaled, letting the words unravel themselves. 

“How much more do you want me to forgive, Shizuru? I’ve...I’ve already forgiven you for so much, whether it was really my place to do so. But this—this last thing is just too much. I feel like I’ve let you go with worse. Then again...maybe that’s why. My quotient was full—one more wrong, and it just...crumbled.” 

“Natsuki...” 

A somber smile set a gentle curve to her lips as she slowly opened her eyes. 

“I suppose I just blinded myself.” 

Nothing. And all she could hear was the rhythm of controlled breathing. 

“Shi–” 

“Na–” 

Both stopped, feeling like teenagers again—if only for the moment. 

And, akin to her teenage self, she felt that uncertainty swirl in her heart. 

“Natsuki, I have another confession to make.” 

This time she thought she really did laugh—a quick burst, almost more like a cough—but the other made no acknowledgement. 

“Natsuki, I...” 

Inhale, exhale. 

“At times...at times I almost felt like your possession, your plaything. Whenever I came back home after a trip, it was as if I were this _thing_ you need to claim back. I could feel your lust, nothing more.” 

A steadying intake of breath, and the continuation— 

“Natsuki, I...I never knew if you _loved_ me.” 

She almost dropped the phone along with her heart. 

“ _What?_ ” 

“Natsuki, just let me–” 

_No!_

“What more do you want from me?! What do you want me to do, huh?” 

She stopped, her use of tense not slipping by her notice. 

“I...I want you to smile at me.” 

Her lips twitched. 

“I smiled at you plen–” 

“I want you to _trust_ me.” 

She choked on her halted words, spluttering. 

“I want you to _see_ me, to feel me, to hear me. I want you to open up. I want to actually _speak_ to me. I want you to relax and let yourself be comforted. I...I want you to _let me love you_. I want you to... I want you to...” 

She rose up, finally reclaiming her voice, her conviction. 

“To what? _Forgive_ you? Forgive you for what you’ve done? Forgive you for—for having sex with that Ogata bitch?!” 

Her jaw set firmly in defiance, her eyes narrowing, daring a rebuttal to set her loose. 

“Forgiveness is not something that I can ask of you, Natsuki. But I _did not_ have sex with Ogata-san.” 

Muscles loosened, her jaw fell. 

“I have not done anything of that nature with anyone besides you.” 

She was frozen. She couldn’t will her mouth to move, much less form words. So she sat there in the cold grip of shock and waited. 

“Natsuki, you have to understand...you have to understand that not all was as it seemed—as it _seems_. I wanted you to leave.” 

A punch. That’s what it felt like, a hard-knuckled punch right in the chest. 

“I managed to convince myself that you didn’t love me like I wanted you to—not yet, anyway. I thought I could wait for you; I had thought I could wait forever, as long as it took. But, Natsuki...I am only human. I make mistakes, have moments of indiscretions. It’s in the nature, especially _mine_.” 

A cold, hard laugh rattled in her ear. Her brows furrowed, and she felt the flame of anger start to smolder. Yet, she only pressed her lips together, refusing to interrupt and give reason for tangent. 

“I had a moment and slipped. I committed an infidelity, though not as large of a one as I had let you believe. It...it was a kiss. A small kiss. But, it wasn’t the kiss that was wrong, it was the want, the _need_ I had. The desire for another to love me—that was my infidelity, no matter how short it lasted.” 

She hadn’t realized how heavy her breathing had become, how fast her heart was pumping, or just how much she wanted to go and punch that smug, smiling face in again. 

“Everything compounded—the guilt, my insecurity, and my own unstable emotions. I broke down. I tried to hide it, tried to pretend that everything was as normal, but, as you know, I still...lashed out.” 

A pause and a slow intake of breath. 

“We don’t deserve each other. Or...at least I had thought so.” 

She kept quite and waited once more. 

“Natsuki, _I love you_.” 

The plea was strained, spread too thin. 

A brief pause, and she could almost see those worried features. 

“Do you hate me now?” 

She didn’t respond immediately, waiting for the tension on the other side to become palpable. Then, with one deep breath, she answered— 

“No.” 

And hung up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Curses, I broke the 1,000 word mark. D: Oh well. And, just because... If you’ve never seen Buffy the Vampire Slayer, go watch it. NOW. Go and see where the last few months of my life have been. And still are. Willow <3
> 
> -ahem- Sorry about failing at the once a week thing. Buffy put me in a chokehold. Aaaand I’m going to stop babbling riiiiight...now.
> 
> Oh, and thanks to Naolin for the beta. :D


	24. Hypocrisy

Hypocrisy is a strange thing, really. 

She’d been quick to blame, an accusation always ready at the tip of her tongue. Nothing had ever been her fault; she was the victim. _She_ was the one left behind, unloved. _She_ was the one who had suffered. 

But, in the end, everything came back to her like a fucking boomerang. A boomerang she flung at all her grievances only to have it curve back around and head for her. 

No, she hadn’t learned anything. She was still paranoid. She still didn’t trust. She thought she had. She _really_ thought she had. 

So, she was an idiot after all. Shocker, there. 

Yet, she still felt that wrathful fire licking at her chest, ready to consume her heart. 

It wasn’t just the kissing that bugged her, but the way it was handled. Why hadn’t she been told? Then again...why hadn’t she asked? 

At that was it, that’s the crux of it all. 

Communication. 

And that’s where her inexperience shown through the most. The other’s too, she supposed. Maybe she wasn’t ready for this kind of a commitment. 

But, then again, she couldn’t deny it—deny the dull, constant ache in her chest. 

She missed the warmth of another body, snuggling tight, writhing hotly in a passionate cry, or just being there so she could _know_. She missed waking up in the morning to crumpled sheets and a content face. She missed the smell of tea. She missed the comfort. She missed the voice, the smiles, the laughter, the tears, the everything. 

She missed _Shizuru_. 

And there she was standing in front of her— _their_ apartment door. 

She swallowed. The lump in her throat was a little bigger than she would have liked. Her hands were too sweaty, her heart beating too fast, and her grip... 

_...too damn tight._

She closed her eyes, exhaled, and opened the door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to. I really had to. –cue evil laugh– Also, awkward Natsuki introspective chapter is awkward.
> 
> Next chapter is the last. Been quite a ride, folks. Hats off to you for lasting this far.
> 
> This is my last author’s note thing, as I feel like leaving the last chapter unblemished for stylistic reasons or some such. So, uh, yeah—just making this thing unnecessarily long now. Jolly good.


	25. First Step

She didn't know what to expect when she opened the door. She didn't even know what she was _prepared_ to see. But that sight—the prone body on the couch, hands tucked up close to the face, hair a mess. So innocent, so _fragile._

Frozen, she stood in the doorway, fearing that if she were to move, something would break. Her heart stilled and hummed with an ache she hadn't felt in so long. 

So there she remained, too afraid to step forward, too brave to step back. 

As she let her eyes flow over the other, she wondered, briefly, how long the bed sheets have been cold. 

A twitch, a groan. And a sliver of burgundy appeared, slowly widening. They grew wider still when they found her. 

“Natsuki.” 

A breath so twisted with disbelief. 

She only smiled. That lump was back in her throat, and she could never talk very well with it. 

“Natsuki, you’re back.” 

She nodded. 

“Un.” 

The tears ran unbidden down her cheeks. And she felt so weak, so weary. She felt so sick of all this, wondered if things could just be simple for once. It would be so easy to fall into familiar arms and just forget. 

She took a step forward, tentative. 

But she couldn't. Everything would just end up back here again, teetering on the brink of destruction. 

She lifted her hand, not to wipe her now wet cheeks, but to gesture towards the couch. 

“Why are you sleeping out here?” 

The head tilted down, shielding. 

“I...couldn't sleep. In there.” 

Up, and burgundy stared, so wanting, so pleading, so open. 

“Without you.” 

_Fuck_ . 

She quickly looked up to the ceiling, trying her hardest not to drown. This was too much. It always was. Everything _felt_ too much. She wanted to run. Again. To go back to when things were duller, back to when she was able to survive. 

But, she knew she wouldn't live. 

So she stayed, standing, crying, and hoping. Hoping so hard this other woman would stand up, hug her, tell her that this was the beginning, not the end. 

She looked back down and was comforted that her eyes weren't the only ones glistening. 

“Natsuki, why—why did you come back?” 

Her smile turned sad, and she figured this was a first step. 

“Because I can’t see my life any other way.” 

“ _Natsuki_.” 

It was deep and desperate, so she took those last few steps and sat on the couch. Not too close, not too far. 

She had been hurt. She still hurt, and, really, she didn't think she'd ever _not_. But she'd been clinging for so long that she had a hard time remembering when she wasn't. 

And she hated herself a little for that. But...that was all right. 

So she put out her hand. 

“Give me your hand.” 

The head tilted to the side. 

“Please.” 

She extended her arm out more, not letting her gaze waver off burgundy. Slow and shaking, a hand fell in hers, and she squeezed. With care, she lifted their joined hands to her lips— _a gasp_ —savoring the feel of soft skin. 

She kept it there even as she spoke. 

“We need to talk.” 

“I know.” 

The voice was breathy and only a titch distracted. 

“No, you _don’t_.” 

She played with the hand, shifted it, and let it smooth across her cheek. It stilled for a moment before its thumb started a gentle caress, almost in a sort of wonderment. 

She took a deep breath, the air inflating what little courage she had accumulated. 

“This isn’t just some magical, one-time talk wherein we come out all fine and dandy after. We need to _talk_ , Shizuru. Repeatedly. Frequently. And not that frilly ‘oh, it’s sunny today’ shit. But I’m also not expecting us to lay our souls bare everyday. I’m kinda looking for that happy median. Do you...do you understand?” 

She only received a nod, but, somehow, it felt like enough for now. 

Things would take time. And it wouldn’t be easy, but nothing worth it ever was. So she was prepared to wait. Prepared to fight. Prepared to make it _work_. Because it couldn't not. 

She let herself lean into the hand and just _be_ for a moment. It was comforting, really, to just sit there. To look and feel. 

_To feel_ . 

“Shizuru, can I kiss you?” 

She asked so candidly that the other woman's mouth fell open, at a loss. She didn't bother fighting off her grin. 

“So, can I?” 

The head shook and she swore she heard a chuckle. 

“Of course, Natsuki.” 

She took the hand from her cheek, intertwined its fingers with hers, and leaned forward. Lips brushed so lightly, so chastely that she doubted it could even be called a kiss. When she pulled back and observed closed eyes and parted lips, she felt a burn somewhere deep. So she came back, hard but gentle, and felt the other tremble. 

A little back, a little more forward. The burn grew larger and hotter. 

Again. 

Again. 

And again until she was breathless and wanting. 

But she stopped, pulled back. 

There was still something she had to do, to say. 

Her hands ran down the face, across the neck, and snuggled back into tawny threads, twisting and tangling. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Natsuki–” 

“No, let me finish. I...I lied before. At the end of our last phone call.” 

She studied the bemused features carefully, waiting. Suddenly, comprehension sparked in those burgundy eyes before they settled into a makeshift stoicism that attempted to cover a sort of pain she _knew_ she’d seen before. 

Oh, how easy it would be for her to close her eyes, to blind herself once more. 

But she was stronger than that. 

“I do hate you.” 

Her delivery, as smooth as it was, betrayed nothing and did nothing to sooth the gasp, pitched high in pain. 

She set a shaky smile on her lips before continuing. 

“As you know, I’m not the best at sharing, much less putting words to my emotions. My feelings for you cannot be limited to something as simple as ‘I hate you.’ There’s so much more that I can’t... I, ah... Just let me say this quote. Then you can hit me or something.” 

A quick clearing of her throat allowed a moment for her to quell, even if only slightly, the frantic, nervous thudding of her heart. 

“ ‘You know that when I hate you, it is because I love you to a point of passion that it unhinges my soul.’ ” 

She felt her cheeks heat and she knew she was blushing. And— _goddammit_ —why couldn’t her heart just slow. The. Fuck. Down. 

Then again, if it did, she just might die. 

If the silence didn’t get to her first; its cool hand pressed against her chest, her heart beating back violently. _Say something, Shizuru. Please... Anything._

“Say it again.” 

Her eyebrows shot up and her mouth formed a loose, unspoken “huh?” 

“Say that last part again.” 

Slowly, she let that smile curve her lips again. 

“Unhinges my soul?” 

Then, she saw it—a frown, almost a pout. She never thought she could miss something so...childish. 

“No, before that.” 

Her smile grew into a grin. 

“It?” 

Eyebrows furrowed. Her cheeks started to hurt. 

“ _Natsuki_ –” 

“I love you.” 

Anything and everything tense fell. 

She was drawn into the other, crushed together in a way she could only deem as exquisite. 

_So warm_ . 

Her nose nuzzled into the neck, inhaling. Hands clutched her, pulling, trembling along with the rest of the body. She felt the wetness, heard the sobs. But she only hummed, low and soft. 

As she sat there, holding and being held, she knew. 

This was their beginning. 

**end**


End file.
